Advent
by purplecleric
Summary: "The coming or arrival, especially of something extremely important." Alex is finding the run up to Christmas a bit of a trial. Just some festive fluff...
1. Day One

_On the first day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be... _

Two pairs of legs protruded from the lush green branches of the Christmas tree.

The woman's legs dangled free, the improbably high- heeled shoes held on by their diamante- trimmed straps. The other pair belonged to Bobby. Alex could tell by the familiar black loafers firmly planted on the rungs of the step ladder. Bobby's face emerged through the thick foliage, eyes shining with excitement, broad grin on his face.

"Just as I thought! Local's had it pegged as a tragic accident or suicide even but-"

"Who would hang the lights on their tree dressed like that?"

Alex cast a glance at the limo driver who had found the body. She carried on.

"And who kills themselves moments before leaving for the glitziest social event of the season?"

Bobby had now extricated himself from the tree, his long legs making short work of the steps, and was staring up at the corpse, apparently not listening to Alex. His latex – covered fingers stroked the shapely nylon- clad calf as he mused.

"Kept herself in good shape..."

"It's going to be all over the news. Socialite Penelope Partridge killed by Christmas lights."

Alex' tone was a little sharp as she watched Bobby. 'If only he would look at me with that much interest. If only he would touch me so tenderly,' she thought as she trudged up the path to start searching the house.

_... Ms. Partridge in a fir tree._


	2. Day Two

_On the second day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be... _

Alex's hands were red and throbbing.

She'd forgotten her fur-lined gloves and thrust her fists deeper into her pockets, trying not to shiver. The deceased's parents were holding a press conference on the steps of their Upper East Side townhouse and she and Bobby were watching from a distance to see if anyone stood out among the paparazzi and curious onlookers.

Bobby looked warm and snug in his wool coat and she eyed his leather gloves with envy. A further shiver and she drew her hands to her mouth and blew on them.

"Brrr!"

Her heart skipped a beat as Bobby's eyes turned to her.

"It sure is cold. What happened to your gloves?"

She felt a little foolish as she confessed she'd left them behind.

"Let me see what I can do about that. Wait here."

Now her heart was really pounding and she felt a little giddy. He cared! She found she was shivering more with anticipation than cold as she awaited his return, picturing elegant soft lamb's wool or cosy sheepskin gloves, or at the very least, a rich hot chocolate topped with cream and marshmallows...

Bobby looked exceedingly pleased with himself as he held out the bag and she grabbed it eagerly. Her heart sank as she eyed the bright green mittens adorned with cartoon creatures. A kid! He sees me as a kid!

"It was all they had – uh- in your size..."

_...two turtle gloves. _


	3. Day Three

_On the third day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be... _

Penelope's sister was a surprise.

They tracked Deborah down to a community garden where she was enthusiastically teaching a small group of children about food. Alex picked her way carefully though the dirt and chicken crap, and tried not to breathe in too deeply. She was a city girl, uncomfortable with all smells and mess of nature.

Bobby, of course, charged across the pen with enthusiasm, and at the sight of his shield, Deborah quickly allocated various tasks to her charges and dismissed them. Their eager feet stirred up the birds which flapped and flustered around Alex, adding to her discomfort.

Feeling out of her depth, she let Bobby lead the interview and studied the sister, trying to see any family resemblance. But she could find none in Deborah's plain make up- free face, in her sturdy body swathed in an intricately patterned poncho, in her long greying hair held in a loose braid.

But the smile was totally familiar.

It was the same smile she had witnessed numerous times as Bobby worked his magic. And god he was working it now. His hands were gently passing Deborah the eggs, handling each with reverence, as they debated the merits of various species of chicken. How did he know this stuff? Alex envied the easy way he had with people, envied even more Deborah's ultimate earth mother vibe and how she was so at home in her environment. Truthfully, she envied the attention Bobby was lavishing on her.

At last, their conversation was over. Impatient to return to familiar city streets and less organic smells, Alex strode briskly from the coop, her heel catching in the dirt sending her sprawling. Two chickens pecked at her hair and a third hopped on her chest.

Shit!

Literally. She watched with dismay as one of the birds put words into action. Bobby's large hand proffered assistance, but there was only amusement in his face, no sympathy.

"They're Faverolles, ya know. Really friendly."

Alex didn't care, she just felt wretched.

_...three French hens._


	4. Day Four

_On the fourth day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be ... _

The tall elegant blonde slipped her contact details into Bobby's breast pocket, patted it, let her manicured fingers linger before gliding away, Bobby eyeing her departure with interest.

"When you've finished..."

Alex hated the way her voice sounded like a schoolmarm but she was getting a little tired of this scene, having witnessed it several times today.

The magazine editor, who was running a series of articles about Penelope, had handed Bobby her card, holding his gaze a little longer than necessary, as her husky voice had intoned:

"You'll let me know if there's_ anything_ I can do..."

The effete hairdresser, who kept Penelope immaculately highlighted, had deployed Bobby's tactic of a tug-of-war while he simpered his sympathy through fluttering lashes.

The boutique owner, Penelope's source of fine Italian leather accessories, had an extra wiggle in her walk as she fetched her card from the counter and she hadn't really needed to bend down that far...

And now Penelope's best friend.

Bobby was lapping it up.

Alex checked her list and felt despondent at the number of friends and associates still left to interview.

_... four calling cards. _


	5. Day Five

_On the fifth day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be ... _

"She was strangled before the lights were wrapped round her throat. You can see the finger marks here."

Bobby executed that peculiar bend of his as his eyes followed the medical examiner's finger. Alex didn't feel that inclined to look so closely.

"Any sign of sexual assault?"

"No, but there were these..."

The gleaming jewellery looked incongruous laid out on the stainless steel tray. Alex was perplexed.

"I thought Forensics had got all of her clothes and stuff."

"They weren't immediately obvious."

Rodgers' voice held no surprise; there was not much she hadn't seen before.

Bobby replaced the blue sheet over the mid-section of the corpse and turned to look at Alex. Usually she would be glad that he chose to favour her over looking at dead bodies but she didn't like the quirked eyebrow or the speculative look on his face.

"Don't even go there, Bobby."

_... five gold rings._


	6. Day Six

_On the sixth day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be ... _

Alex watched with interest as Bobby shuffled into the squad room, looking rather sheepish, an untidy parcel tucked under his arm. She allowed herself a moment of hope. Hope blossomed as he placed the lumpy package on the desk before her.

"It's for you."

His embarrassment was endearing. Alex eyed the garish paper and the odd shaped bow and tried to suppress her smile.

"Can I ..?"

At his nod, she pulled apart the knotted string and unwrapped the gift, barely containing her excitement.

She blinked as her eyes took in chunky wool inexpertly cobbled into a vague sweater shape. The navy blue background threw into stark contrast the strange design of what appeared to be half a dozen birds taking a crap.

"It's from Lewis' mom – she's made a batch of them, all with a seasonal theme. She thought you'd like one."

Alex felt the urge to strangle him with the mismatched sleeves.

_... six geese a-laying. _


	7. Day Seven

_On the seventh day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be ... _

"Penelope's patronage ensured we were able to undertake this tour..."

Alex was only half listening as the troupe's tour manager moaned out his worry over the future prospects of the company. She was watching the scene on the stage.

A slender black-clad man was calling out directions as the _corps de ballet_ were practising. Alex was enchanted as she observed the effortless way they danced, the grace in their movements and the precision of their poses. Their white tights, leotards and tutus added to their ethereal beauty.

Alex was not the only one mesmerised.

Bobby was up on the stage, striking an incongruous contrast as he aped their postures with his arms. The choreographer called an end to the rehearsal with a clap of his hands and the flock of dancers pirouetted around Bobby before leaving the stage in a flutter of tulle and a quiver of pointed toes.

Alex felt decidedly flat-footed and clumsy in comparison and spent the afternoon at the shooting range to bolster her self esteem.

_... seven swans a-spinning._


	8. Day Eight

_On the eighth day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be ... _

He'd invited her out!

Not a date, exactly, it was a carol concert in aid of charity but it was a social thing – nothing to do with work.

"Lewis' mom will be there so it would be a nice touch if you wore the sweater."

Alex thought of the blue monstrosity and shuddered. In a moment of spite, she thought of how to exact a bit of revenge for all the attention he'd been getting.

"Only if you wear yours."

Bobby's sweater was equally hideous, possibly more so. It was bright red with sleeves far too long, even for his arms, while the body was short and tight with a high collar that kept catching on his stubble causing him to keep pulling at the neck. The design was probably supposed to be Santa but only if he'd undergone some horrible mutation. Alex eyed the effect with malicious glee.

Her plan backfired.

"Oh, don't you look adorable!"

Bobby's cheek was red from the pinches of elderly spinsters who were exploiting his good manners to the max. He was the centre of attention as they flapped and fussed around him and he was treated to a steady stream of compliments and cookies.

Alex sat, hot and itchy, and silently seethed.

_... eight old maids milling._


	9. Day Nine

_On the ninth day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be ... _

The loud music throbbed and pulsed and Alex leaned a little closer to try to hear what the sleazy man was saying. But not too close. She eyed the too-tight leather trousers, the open silk shirt and the beads of sweat pooling in the hairy chest with disgust. This was Penelope's lover?

"Now ol' Penny's gone, I've got loving to spare. How about it, darlin'?"

Alex fervently hoped he was the perp so she had an excuse to bust his balls, or that he would make a threatening move so she could shoot him. She glanced over at Bobby, praying for his intervention. But one look told her it was in vain.

His attention was on the podium dancers; their lithe athletic bodies gyrating in time to the beat and she'd not seen so much bare flesh since she'd worked in Vice. The glazed look on Bobby's face and his awful brown raincoat were also startlingly reminiscent of those days. He was oblivious to her, lost to the hypnotic sway of tassels and g-strings. Some back-up.

Alex decided she'd reserve a bullet for him.

_... nine ladies dancing._


	10. Day Ten

_On the tenth day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be... _

Dear God, give me strength!

There were no external distractions today; just Alex, Bobby and a mountain of evidence, all in a glass-walled room. His proximity was distraction enough.

Jesus! No! Not the jacket...

Bobby shrugged off his jacket, revealing shoulders a mile wide, in preparation for diving into the evidence. Having laid out the bags to his satisfaction, he straddled the chair.

Christ! I wish he wouldn't do that...

Lord, don't let me dwell on that finger...

The finger in question was stroking the plastic-covered clues, lingering on one containing a small white feather, before going to his throat and loosening his tie.

Please God, not the button as well...

He undid the button, and still not comfortable, began to roll up his sleeves.

Sweet Jesus, give me the self-control not to reach out and...

But the thought that one touch would not be enough, and the sight of the busy bullpen a few feet away, stilled her hand. Bobby was far from still. He sprang up and began pacing in front of the boards. Alex listened to the familiar slip and shuffle of his feet.

Dear Lord, not his feet, because if I think of his feet, I think of...

God, if he only came over all dreamy like that when he looked at me, not boring old financial statements...

Christ! If only that smile wasn't such a rare treat, maybe I'd get used to it...

"I've got it!"

You sure have, Bobby. Oh, you meant the case... Jeez, that means I've got to endure an interrogation as well.

Dear God, give me strength!

_... ten "Lords, I'm pleading."_


	11. Day Eleven

_On the eleventh day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be..._

The arraignment had gone smoothly. Deborah had pleaded guilty and was remanded to Rikers. It was all to do with Penelope refusing to continue funding the community garden. Alex knew those blasted chickens had to be involved somehow.

The day was bright and cold as they walked back from the courthouse and things were looking up. They'd solved the case before Christmas, just the reports to complete this afternoon, and tonight was the MCS party. Tonight she would-

"Patrick!"

Bobby's exclamation intruded on her musings, and Alex saw her partner hurrying across Police Plaza, waving to one of a number of kilted men. Great. One of his buddies.

She only caught snippets of their conversation because it was lost in the groans and wheezes of bagpipes being prepared for performance. Alex hated that sound; it provoked the same reaction in her that nails on a chalkboard did for other people.

But it was not just that. Kevin had played the pipes at her wedding and again at Joe's funeral. She did not want those reminders now; not at Christmas, not before a party, not as another man occupied her thoughts...

The first notes of 'Good King Wenceslas' wheezed out and Alex bolted for the haven of 1PP and a pile of paperwork.

_... eleven pipers piping. _


	12. Day Twelve

_On the twelfth day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be... _

The party had been a nightmare.

Bobby had been in one of his more sociable moods. Too sociable. He had danced with nearly everyone, including Gladys from Payroll whose ample bosom and butt strained the purple satin seams of her dress. Alex had loitered near the mistletoe hoping to catch a moment with him, but had not even managed to catch his eye.

As a consequence, Alex had drunk too much punch and this morning her head was home to a dozen drummers beating out her misery. Another banging joined the mental din and it took her a moment to realise someone was knocking on her door.

Bobby stood on her steps looking far too cheerful and holding out a bag. Thinking of recent 'gifts' Alex opened it with no expectation and discovered fresh orange juice, bottled water and a packet of painkillers.

"Studies show hangovers are the product of dehydration."

His voice was too loud.

"You've researched hangovers?"

"No, I've been researching women..."

The pounding in her head was now the vein throbbing in Alex's temple as her blood boiled.

"...and I've come to the conclusion you're my favourite."

It wasn't dehydration making her mouth dry.

His lips brushed hers gently before forming into a shy smile. It wasn't low blood sugar making her feel faint.

"Merry Christmas, Alex."

It wasn't the pounding thud of a hangover she could hear as his arms enveloped her, as his lips found hers again. It was the sound of her heartbeat... and his.

_... twelve drummers drumming._

**A/N**

**Thanks for all your support and encouragement over this year, I wish you all the best for the festive season.**

**LO:CI is not mine, but I don't think that's going to stop me...**


End file.
